Maglor's Fate
by randomwriter96
Summary: Maglor's fate at the end of the First Age. He finds an answer and ends his wandering. Vignette.


He wandered the shores, lost and lonely in unbearable, clenching grief and regret. What power was this that he was able to wander for so many months without eating or drinking? Was this his fate, to walk among nature, seeing no other elf or man, and feel listless and useless forever? Had the Valar deemed it to be so?  
  
He no longer sang sorrowful songs that painfully relived the past. What was his voice worth when no one he loved could hear it? Undoubtedly nothing.  
  
He stopped and raised his hands to his eye level. How he loathed what they had done in keeping faithful to the rash and cursed oath. Not even he wanted to keep these bloodstained fingers. He was a kinslayer. Nothing more. Why did he not share the same fate as his beloved brothers? What did the Valar see in him? He then remembered that before they hastily left Tirion long ago, he promised his mother that he would live and return. It must be..the Valar heard his promise and was not going to let him go without keeping it, as they have reminded him when he took the same oath as his father, Fëanor. He was the last Fëanorion..he choked out a bitter laugh as this realization finally sank in. Maedhros was really gone. He was not going to jump out from behind the bushes and scare him as he did playfully when they were young. He was consumed by the fire..by the Oath.  
  
"The damned Oath.." he whispered, anguish in his eyes. He lost his father and six brothers to three stones. "I hate them. I hate them so much.." He sank to his knees and sobbed, not caring if anyone saw him. If anyone came at all. As his tears eventually subsided, a small glimmer caught his attention. He frowned in confusion and walked towards it, brushing past long stalks of grass and weaving through both young and old trees. He ducked under a shield of leaves and branches and was surprised to find himself atop a hill next to the glittering sea.  
  
The sea! His face lighted up for the first time in centuries and his tears were now of joy instead of despair. This was heaven-sent. This was the answer he did not know he was looking for. This was the answer!  
  
He nearly tripped in his haste on the thick tufts of grass as he hurried down the hill towards the gleaming stretch of sand. A lone, shining white boat was perching delicately on the beach, a third of it caressed by the soft rocking motions of the water. This was to be his fate, he thought, glancing up at the clear sky. The Valar changed their mind and decided to let him go after all. He pushed the small, feather-light boat into the water, so pure and clear that he could see the bottom easily, even without the advantage of his elf-sight. He sat content on the simple plank that served as a sturdy sitting spot as the wind Manwë sent proceeded to shift the boat gently across the blue expanse. When the shore looked merely like a floating bump, the wind disappeared. But he knew what to do. He thanked the Valar for their forgiveness and mercifulness and reached inside his tunic. He pulled out a necklace and left at the bottom of the boat. He would not need it anymore.  
  
He then slipped gently out and made a quiet splash. He raised his head once more to the sky and the sun, finally finding peace. He then let go completely of his will and sank beneath the surface.  
  
The water took him willingly, his eyes closed in calm submission. His ebony hair flowed and waved with the currents of the sea, giving the impression that it was alive; a single entity altogether. He heard no birds calling, no rustling trees, no whistling wind. The silence of the sea encompassed him completely and whisked away his breath. And he was glad.  
  
The lord Ulmo walked silently at the bottom of the sea, watching the slow sinking of the last son of Fëanor. He, of all his brothers, was the most sensitive, the most resentful of the Oath, the most willing to return to the protection of the Valar. And for that, they decided to grant him what he wished for, what he deserved. As he finally rested on the dark, but peaceful floor, Ulmo lifted a hand. The floor began to shift and change, the sands moving slowly in the watery depths.  
  
It was then that he began to have the most wonderful vision. He was back on the shore, next to where his brother perished. Or seemed to have perished. The fire rose slowly up towards the surface of the deep crack. He ran over to collect his brother, who was enfolded in the fire's embrace. He did not care for burns. However as he embraced Maedhros, he observed that his brother was as young and beautiful as ever, and that he received no burns. There was no evidence that he was even close to a fire at all except for a slight flush. He gasped as he realized that his brother had two hands again. He clasped them in his own and cried with relief when Maedhros began to wake. He opened his eyes and smiled, meeting the gaze of his younger brother.  
  
"Come, let us go home, Maedhros!" His tears flowed down his face in utter bliss as he grasped his oldest brother's right hand in his left. Then they ran together for hours, though it only felt like a few minutes. What they passed appeared to them only a blur of color. They only focused on what was ahead: home.  
  
They finally reached the grand, white doors of the house of Fëanor. Before they could lift hands and knock, the doors opened. Nerdanel stood there, radiant and lovely with the jewels her husband made her clasped around her neck and wrists. Choking back a sob, she hugged her two oldest sons as they flung themselves against her.  
  
"Come and have dinner. Everyone is waiting," she said excitedly, leading the way into the dining hall. Her second son felt the happiest feeling swell in his heart as he saw his whole family seated at the familiar, polished table. Fëanor was alive again, sitting at his usual place at the head of the table. His brothers were there: Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras. Maedhros took his place next to his father, across from his mother. Fëanor smiled as he motioned him to come and sit down.  
  
"Hurry up and stop being so slow! You are such a dreamer, son, have I ever told you that?" He nearly cried again at the sound of such familiar, warm words. He nodded and eagerly sat in his chair, observing the chatter and the laughs that were shared up and down the table.  
  
'I'm home again. I'll never leave..not for all the jewels of Arda!' He thought contentedly.  
  
Ulmo knew of this vision and espied the last loving, dream-like smile on the Fëanorion's face before the moving grains of sand covered his body thrice over in an underwater tomb. The lord then lowered his hand and walked away, his form disappearing in the rolling waves.  
  
Above the surface, Manwë sent another breeze to blow the now-empty boat back to shore. At the edge of the white strip of sand, the owner of the boat, thoroughly confused, watched in amazement as his boat floated back to him from the horizon. The elf dragged his boat and lodged it in the sand, shaking his head while berating himself. He must have left too much of it in the water and let it float away. He then saw the necklace left at the bottom of the boat. The owner grasped the chain and lifted it out, watching the pendant spin. He lifted his other hand to bring it closer for inspection. He gasped as he recognized the emblem of the House of Fëanor. One name came to mind immediately, for that elf was the only living descendant of the fiery lord: Maglor.  
  
Now everything made sense. The elf broke his gaze from the gold piece and stared understandingly at the seemingly never-ending stretch of water, the white crests rising and falling in time with the now-rising sea wind. After several moments of silence, the elf's eyes returned to the necklace. With a sudden movement that suggested both power and grace, the elf flung the piece of jewelry as far as it would go towards the sea. A golden glimmer responded to him as it disappeared beneath the surface. The currents brought the necklace to the tomb and two watery shapes that looked like a lady's hands gently embedded it in the heavy sand. Then, the shapes dissolved.It was no other than Uinen herself.  
  
The elf stood there in solitude, musing until the sun began to set, the red glows starting to appear. He then sadly smiled.  
  
"Farewell, Maglor, son of Fëanor! I hope that you have found your peace." With that, he began to walk back towards his home, his heart in both sorrow and tranquility. Before he reached the path that led to his dwelling, the sea birds weaved an invisible pattern above him. He looked up and heard them singing and trilling one of Maglor's famed songs. He would not be forgotten, the elf silently assured the birds as he turned to resume his walk to the path.  
  
Maglor walked back to his room, his brothers yawning and saying their goodnights to each other. He waited until everyone was in their rooms and then entered his own, closing the door quietly. He would finally get the blessed rest he desired for so long. He stretched himself on the bed and, as his dark eyes became vacant, fell into a blissful, eternal sleep..  
  
And indeed, Maglor was not forgotten.  
  
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Explanation: Yes, the last bit is part of the vision. :) 


End file.
